


into temptation

by cosmicwoosan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Corruption, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Food Sex, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Implied Consent, M/M, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Reverse Corruption, Riding, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Seduction, Self-cest, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Heavenly Virtues, Smut, cock stepping, sensual banana feeding, yunho the walking banana split
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwoosan/pseuds/cosmicwoosan
Summary: In a rift between dimensions lies the Kim Manor, atop a hazy hill teeming with green and gray, shrouded from view of anything and anybody apart from the sixteen entities that gather there each year. Inside, the seven Sins and the seven Virtues convene for an annual feast to enforce the importance of their truce. The time they spend at the manor is catered specifically for the purpose of interaction. Harmless, neutral interaction.But behind closed doors... they may get up to a little more than just "interacting."
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Choi Jongho, Choi San/Choi San, Jeong Yunho/Jeong Yunho, Jung Wooyoung/Jung Wooyoung, Kang Yeosang/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa/Park Seonghwa, Song Mingi/Song Mingi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 157





	1. commencement

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! Welcome to my sins & virtues selfcest fic!
> 
> A few notes before we dive in:  
> -Our 7 Sins are pride, greed, lust, wrath, gluttony, envy, and sloth. The corresponding 7 Virtues are humility, charity, chastity, patience, abstinence, kindness, and diligence, respectively.  
> -"Reverse Corruption" refers to the Virtue "corrupting" the Sin. You'll see.  
> -The Virtues are named after the real ateez EXCEPT San. San is Lust, Sannie is Chastity. Each Sin has a shortened or modified version of the member's name.  
> -There is implied consent throughout this entire fic!  
> -I am not affiliated with ANY religion, please take this fic at face value.  
> -Tags will be added with each chapter.
> 
> I'd like to thank koa for writing the god tier selfcest fic "let's make a toast like a thunder" because that heavily inspired me to write this one. You can find him on here @youngjo!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong shrugs as he turns on his heels, Joong following closely behind. “I simply believe that even Virtues need to indulge a little.”
> 
> Joong smirks, linking his arm with Hongjoong’s as the doors to their room open and close behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just exposition, juicy stuff will start in the next chapters :)

In a rift between dimensions lies the Kim Manor, atop a hazy hill teeming with green and gray, shrouded from view of anything and anybody apart from the sixteen entities that gather there each year. There, inside the humongous mansion, the seven Sins and the seven Virtues convene for an annual feast to enforce the importance of their truce.

The truce has always existed, as immediate chaos would erupt if it didn’t. From Sin comes Virtue, and from Virtue comes Sin. A scale balanced on both ends. A pendulum that doesn’t swing. At a constant stalemate, the Sins and Virtues acknowledge each other’s existences in passing; however, the time they spend at the manor is catered specifically for purpose of interaction. Harmless, neutral interaction.

It is always peaceful, as the leaders of the Sins and Virtues are strict in their abidance by the truce and the belief in neutrality. More levelheaded than their disciples could ever be, the leaders are the ones who conduct the occasion through and through, until the actual feast is over and the Sins and their partnered Virtues reconnect in their rooms.

Their rooms, which are specifically tailored to and by them, are where the Sins and their Virtues have their one-on-one meetings, a time that their leaders strongly suggest be _used_ and not spent lounging around or in silent avoidance, because for the most part, the Sins and Virtues don’t exactly get along. It’s to be expected, of course, that two entities that exist for opposing reasons wouldn’t get along. However, that is the whole purpose of the annual occasion, as meaningless as it may seem to the fourteen entities that dread it.

Sworn to their leaders, the fourteen disciples follow.

The Virtues are the first to arrive, of course, courtesy of Mingi’s incessant badgering. It’s happened without fail for as long as the occasion has existed. They wait patiently, the table already set end to end, adorned by a wide variety of foods, from tender, juicy meats and decadent desserts to fresh fruits and vegetables and heaps of bread and cheese.

“Yun is useful for one thing, huh?” Mingi grumbles.

“Don’t,” Hongjoong scolds with a painted finger. “I better not hear you making such comments during the feast. Bemoan on your own time, Mingi.”

Mingi makes an affronted noise and slumps back in his seat. He glances over at Yunho, who sits poised beside Hongjoong, eyes purposefully averted from the food.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong says. “Please, do help yourself to today’s feast.”

Yunho nods. “Of course. However, please remember that it is against my nature to—”

“I know, Yunho.” Hongjoong smiles reassuringly, placing a gentle hand over Yunho’s. “Take as much as you want, is what I mean. As much as you see fit for _you_.”

Yunho nods again, solidly. He averts his eyes again, staring down at his hands.

When the Sins arrive, Hongjoong can feel the shift in the atmosphere. He senses them outside, the mist surrounding the manor parting for their arrival. The double doors open with a loud creak, and the heavy footsteps of Sins’ reckless leader steps through the entrance first, his boots heavy against the floor, chains clinking as he walks.

“Ah, damn, we’re late again!” Joong announces, followed by a haughty laugh.

Yun throws an arm around his leader’s shoulders. “Look at it, boss! I did a good job, didn’t I?”

Joong gives the table a brief once-over before somehow grabbing the taller man by his neck and rubbing his fist into his head. “Ah, you numbskull! You made too much again!”

“You can never have enough, boss!”

Somewhere behind them, Youngwoo snickers. “Mm, felt that.”

Hongjoong clears his throat conspicuously and rises to his feet. “Joong.”

At the mention of his name, Joong stops furiously giving Yun a noogie and straightens up, his infamous smirk present on his face. “Ah, Hongjoong! Long time no see, my friend!”

“Yes, as you say every year,” Hongjoong says.

The rest of the Sins pile in, sitting in a scattered order instead of across from their corresponding Virtues. Almost as if he _knew_ , Yun sits across from Mingi.

“You better not put your feet up on this table,” Mingi warns, voice low.

“Mm, you really think I’d soil the food that _I_ spent time making? Please, you’re talking to _me_ , not Minki over there.” Yun rolls his eyes and motions his head towards Mingi’s counterpart, who has already reclined in his seat across from Yeosang. Yeosang’s eyes remain trained on the food.

“If I see him do so much as lift his feet, I will—”

“Please, Mingi.” Jongho’s soothing voice cuts through Mingi’s frustration. “I understand your frustrations, but as our leader said, please refrain from making such comments during our feast.”

“Ha! Hongjoong’s already had to scold you once? Sheesh, you’d be a great fit for us, ya know,” Yun muses, crossing his arms.

Mingi scoffs and shifts in his seat, looking away.

Then, there is the shattering of a glass instead of a gentle peal, signaling Joong’s announcement instead of Hongjoong’s (they switch off every year). “Alright, freeloaders—”

“Joong,” Hongjoong says, calm yet stern.

“Hmph, take a joke, would you?” Joong rolls his eyes. “Anyways. You all know the drill. This is a time for interaction, meaning I better hear conversin’, chit-chattin’, laughin’. Whatever it is, keep it nonviolent, ‘kay? Don’t wanna have to be cleaning up any blood spills. Well, don’t wanna have to make Mingi and Hongjoong clean any up, that is.”

Mingi’s eyes narrow, but he makes no sound. He must be feeling like an erupting volcano on the inside.

“That means _you guys_ , team.” Joong points a painted finger at the Sins. “I know no Virtue’s gonna be goin’ around stabbing anybody, so y’all better _behave_ , got it?”

“Mingi’d be most likely to throw shit,” Hojong jests, snickering. “He’s gotten close a couple times.”

“Yeah, and you just egged him on!” Hwaseong adds with his own laughter.

“Don’t make me get close again,” Mingi snarls, hand tightening around his fork, to the point where his knuckles turn white. Jongho places a comforting hand over it.

“Mm, sounds like something right up my alley,” San purrs, leaning forward in interest.

“ _Team_!” Joong suddenly bellows, slamming his palms on the table, rattling the utensils. Everyone in the room jolts at the aggressive motion, apart from Hongjoong, who remains standing, posture straight, hands behind his back. “That is _enough_! If y’all wanna fight, wait until your alone time. But while we’re gathered here right now, I don’t wanna hear any fightin’, you hear me?”

A collective mumble of “yes sir”’s resonates within the Sin cluster. Joong sighs. “Now. Would everyone kindly rise and hold up your glasses?”

The most civil he’s sounded all day.

The Sins and Virtues stand in unison, glasses full of golden sparkles raised. “To unity, neutrality, and peace,” Joong says calmly.

“To unity, neutrality, and peace,” echoes the chorus of the other fifteen entities.

After the commencement, the sixteen of them take their seats, a flurry of hands and utensils reaching over arms and food. Silverware and dishes clink together as they serve themselves, passing down basins and plates of food until their own plates are full. Well, apart from one.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong whispers to the man on his right.

“Do not fret, Hongjoong. I am merely eating in small portions,” Yunho says. “One at a time.”

“Hey! Don’t make my hard work go to waste now!” Yun shouts from a ways down the table, mouth quite audibly full.

Youngwoo snorts. “Hey, more for us.”

Yunho clears his throat and turns his attention back to his plate. His portions are neatly separated into quarters, one for his slices of chicken, one for his selection of fruit, one for his vegetables, and one for dessert, each with a thin line of separation between them. Yeo eyes it curiously.

“You’re so neat,” he comments.

Yunho nods without looking up as he slices into his chicken. “Mhm, it is a method of portion control for me. It is important to take only what you can finish first, and then eat more if you are still hungry.”

“Couldn’t be Yun, or any of us, for that matter,” Yeo says. He glances down at his own plate, all of his food is touching in some way, apart from his dessert, which he has put onto a separate plate (it’s his favorite and he can’t have it touching anything else).

From his spot at one of the table’s ends, Hongjoong observes the feast. For the most part, they each keep to themselves, with the occasional comment here and there. He watches his own counterpart across from him, digging into his food ravenously just like the rest of his disciples, but Hongjoong just laughs.

How oddly endearing and amusing it is to him, seeing his very own face stuffing himself. One would expect Hongjoong to despise the leader of all Sins, but Hongjoong is kind. He is patient. He is noble and great and everything _good_.

However, he preaches to his own disciples that not all Virtues are inherently _good_.

Perhaps that is why Hongjoong cannot bring himself to hate the very essence of himself that is everything _bad._ Because just as Virtues are not all inherently good, not all Sins are inherently evil.

It had shone through during Joong’s commencement speech. Just like Hongjoong, Joong believes in the truce, the importance of this event and the interaction of his “team” and their rivals. He sees the world in a similar and different way, and Hongjoong respects that tremendously.

The respect he holds for Joong and his disciples as well as his own is what keeps this dimension together, and it is the same way for Joong, through and through.

Their existences are woven together in a fabric so tightly knit that they couldn’t escape each other even if they tried. With Sin comes Virtue, and with Virtue comes Sin. Neither would exist without the other.

And that is why they are gathered here together.

None of them _hate_ each other, as much as Mingi would deny the notion. Hongjoong knows all. He can hear it all, in their laughter, in the way they speak to and about each other when it isn’t petty insults or offhanded comments. He can see it in passing glances and eyes that avert nervously as a result of accidental contact, the way some eyes light up at certain anecdotes or jokes. He is endlessly proud of both groups.

“Joong,” Hongjoong says while the others converse among themselves. “How have you been?”

Joong shrugs. “It’s just the usual, Hongjoong. Takin’ it one day at a time, y’know?”

“Have they been behaving?”

“Depends on your definition of behaving.” Joong’s mouth turns up in a smirk, one eyebrow quirked. “Minki ain’t doin’ much of anything, as per usual. Yeo doesn’t come out of his room much. Hojong’s still learnin’ to reel himself in most days, Hwaseong’s still got a hard time admitting to his mistakes, Yun still makes us bomb ass food. Youngwoo’s been stealin’ shit again lately though, so I’ve been trying to keep watch over that. And San is… you know.”

The two leaders look at Lust, who has his plump lips hollowed around a chocolate-covered strawberry. “He keeps everyone entertained,” Joong says.

Hongjoong makes a mirthful noise. “A humble understatement.”

“I ain’t trying to give you a hard-on when we’re still at dinner, y’know?” Joong says suggestively, winking.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Well, my friend, thank you for being so considerate.” He glances over at San again, whose lips are dripping with red strawberry juices, chocolate staining the sides of his mouth.

“What about you and your crew?” Joong asks.

“Similarly, they have not changed much. Though I do believe we tire of Mingi’s constant pestering.” Hongjoong lets out a lamenting sigh. “He is usually not so agitated.”

“It’s only around this time of year he gets like that, right?”

Hongjoong nods and leans in. “I believe the anticipation of seeing the Sins gets him quite worked up. I promise you, he means no harm, he just—”

“Trust me, Hongjoong, I get it. I know they’re a rowdy bunch. Mingi works hard for everything he does, and it must be stressful, y’know?” Joong glances over at Diligence, who is engaged in a conversation with Yeo and Seonghwa. “Hopefully he’ll get it all out of his system tonight.”

“Mm.”

Diagonal from Hongjoong sits Minki, Sloth’s embodiment. He has one leg over the arm’s chair as he lazily forks food into his mouth, chewing idly. Next to him is San, who Hongjoong swears hasn’t stopped smiling since they arrived. He’s watching Minki with a smirk filled with something mischievous, and Hongjoong isn’t sure if he should ask.

He decides against it.

As childish as the Sins can be, they are their own individuals. They can handle disputes among themselves.

What’s strange is _Mingi_ watching Minki with a similar look as San. However, Hongjoong still does not intervene.

“Sannie,” Yeosang says, velvet smooth voice in Hongjoong’s ears. “How are you feeling?”

Sannie has his shoulders shrunken in, like a turtle in its shell. “I am okay. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s not… intimidating you, right?” Yeosang’s eyes flick over to San, who’s moved onto a bowl of grapes. He eats them in halves, making sure to enunciate the shape of his lips whenever he bites in.

Sannie shakes his head. “He does not intimidate me.”

Yeosang gives Chastity a doubtful look. “If you say so.”

“If he gives you trouble, you know where to find us,” Seonghwa murmurs.

“Thank you both,” Sannie says. “But I can handle myself _and_ him.” He glares at his counterpart, who catches him and sends him a quick wink. Sannie’s face curls with disgust. “Wish he would stop trying to get with me every year, though.”

“He is quite the tempter,” Seonghwa says. “Rumor has it that one kiss can have you hooked for life.”

“It’s his saliva, I believe,” Yeosang inputs. “At least, that’s what Yeo has told me.”

“You and Yeo are pretty close, are you not?” Sannie asks, eyes cautiously glancing between Yeosang and San.

Yeosang chuckles and bows his head. “He is quite troubled. I find myself taking pity on him more than hating him. We have the same face, yet he desires another. Feels quite condescending, if I must admit.”

“If only all our relationships could be like you and Yeo’s,” Sannie muses.

“I feel as if our meetings would be quite boring if that were the case.” Yeosang covers his mouth as he laughs. “I do enjoy the banter sometimes, and all of us know it would never escalate to the point of violence.”

“Joong may be a reckless leader, but he is honorable just like ours,” Seonghwa says.

Hongjoong’s heart swells with pride. Well, a healthy amount of it.

“Yo, Hongjoong!” Hwaseong calls out suddenly. “Question for ya!”

“Yes?”

“San wants to know if our leader’s any good at giving head!”

“Hey! That conversation was reserved strictly between us!” San shouts, clearly facetious.

“Do you have no shame?” Seonghwa exclaims.

“Wouldn’t _you_ know, Seonghwa?” Hwaseong counters, smirking. “You of all people should know, I _am_ you!”

Seonghwa sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. “Oh, gods.”

“I think he’s pretty good,” San says.

“Then why’d ya ask?” Hwaseong asks.

“Need a second opinion.”

Hongjoong sighs much like Seonghwa had and shakes his head. “That is confidential information.”

“Aha! So he _has_ given you head!” San stands and points a finger at Minki. “You owe me! Laundry for a week!”

Minki squints in San’s direction. “You really thought I was gonna go through with that bet?” he challenges, his mouth still full.

San smirks and crosses his arms, cocking one hip out. “No head for an entire month, or you do my laundry for a week.”

There’s a pause. “Fine.”

Laughter resonates within the group, like music to Hongjoong’s ears. “How proud you must be,” he says to Joong, “to lead such a ragtag yet colorful group.”

“You must be pretty proud yourself,” Joong says. “They’re well put-together, your lot. All in order, y’know? Meanwhile… I got a bunch of chaotic brats to deal with.”

“But you would not have it any other way,” Hongjoong says.

Joong smiles, as does Hongjoong, and it’s as if they’re looking in the mirror.

“That goes without sayin’, Hongjoong.”

-

As predicted, there is an overwhelming amount of leftovers once all stomachs are filled (with the exception of Yun, who continues to munch away at the uneaten pieces of bread; it’s his signature recipe). Before the retirement to the individual rooms, Wooyoung reaches under the table to retrieve a basket of flowers.

Each year, Wooyoung finds something to gift to all attendees. Last year had been candles.

He makes his way around the table, handing a single white rose to each entity, wearing a confident, gleeful smile. “I hope you all find them pretty. I grew them myself.”

“Did you now?” San asks, sniffing the center of it before sticking his finger into the folds. “They’re gorgeous, Wooyoung. Thank you.”

Sannie sneers at his counterpart, insides curdling at the way Wooyoung’s cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of pink. “O-oh. Thank you, San.”

“Careful, now,” Youngwoo warns playfully.

“Would you happen to have any more? Particularly, the red variety?” San questions, flirtatious cadences laced in his tone.

“Oh, err, no. If I find the time, perhaps I can grow some and drop them off—”

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hojong grumbles. “Little asshole’ll probably hop on ya as soon as you walk through the door. No goin’ back after that.”

San giggles. “Oh, Hojong, you see right through me.”

Wooyoung’s face flushes even further as he rushes to finish his round, until the basket is empty and he slides back into his seat, hastily adjusting his blazer and shoving the basket back underneath the table.

Apparently, it isn’t enough for San.

Lust stands up, the skidding of his chair echoing in the space. He stalks over to Wooyoung’s seat, coming up from behind him. “Wooyoung, dear, you’re so generous,” he says, leaning forward and sliding his arms down Wooyoung’s shoulders, hands down his chest.

“San—” Joong warns.

“Perhaps you’d like to share your generosity with me someday, hm?” San crosses his arms over Wooyoung’s chest and leans into his ear. “I’ll share some with you, too.”

“San, that’s enough.” Joong’s stern voice finally grabs San’s attention, snapping him back.

Hojong scoffs. “Fuckin’ slut.”

“Mm, you know I love it when you call me that, honey,” San says, removing himself from Wooyoung’s body and sauntering back to his seat.

Hojong rolls his eyes.

“Well, then,” Hongjoong speaks. “Is there anything anybody would like to say while we are still gathered here?”

Nobody speaks.

He clears his throat. “Ah. Well, I would like to thank Yun for this delicious meal, and thank you to Joong as well. I do not believe I have to repeat myself this time around. You know we expect you to use this time productively. Spend time with each other. Talk to each other. Keep the peace and behave. Am I understood?”

Both groups answer with a variety of “yes”’s. “Good,” Hongjoong says. “You are all dismissed.”

The leaders stay behind as they watch their disciples disappear, with the exception of Sannie and Minki, who has fallen asleep at the table in the same position as he’d been in while eating. Joong sighs. “I’ll give him five more minutes.”

“Mingi will not be happy,” Hongjoong says.

“Well, that’s something they’ll have to sort out themselves. The whole point of the meetin’, don’t you think?”

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, yes.”

He turns his attention to Sannie then, who is standing but frozen in his place. “Sannie.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you not going? I thought you said you were not intimidated.”

Sannie gulps. “I’m not. He just…” Hongjoong feels his aura waver, shudder. “I do not… always feel comfortable around him. And I did not appreciate his actions towards Wooyoung earlier.”

“Sannie,” Joong speaks up, walking over to join them. “You should know San isn’t going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“That does not stop him from trying,” Sannie says.

“Well, yeah,” Joong says, shrugging. “That’s who he is. Lust. He tempts people. There ain’t anything wrong with indulging every now and again.”

“Of course, it is ultimately up to you, Sannie,” Hongjoong says. “I know how you feel around him. I do encourage this time to be used with your counterpart, but if you truly do not feel comfortable around him, you may stay here.”

Sannie draws in a deep breath. “He might tempt ya, but he ain’t gonna pressure ya,” Joong says.

“There’s a difference?”

“San’s a respectful guy when it comes down to it. You just gotta be real clear with what you want and don’t want. He’ll respect you.”

Sannie’s face falls as he sighs. “Put some trust in him, Sannie,” Hongjoong says, bracing his hands on Chastity’s shoulders. “You might be surprised.”

“Okay,” Sannie concedes, nodding before he trudges off to his and San’s room on the second floor.

Joong sighs. “He’s gonna crack one day. Nobody can resist San.”

“If I am being honest, I am surprised Sannie has held out for this long,” Hongjoong says. “Then again, he _is_ San’s only and greatest challenge.”

Joong clicks his tongue before turning to look at his counterpart. “You encouraging him?”

Hongjoong shrugs as he turns on his heels, Joong following closely behind. “I simply believe that even Virtues need to indulge a little.”

Joong smirks, linking his arm with Hongjoong’s as the doors to their room open and close behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


	2. swallow your pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your leader is a respectable man,” Seonghwa continues. “You are one of his beloved disciples, as despicable as you are. He will not have a low opinion of you. I, on the other hand—”
> 
> Seonghwa reaches forward and down, grabbing Hwaseong’s jaw and forcing it in his direction.
> 
> “— _detest_ you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to some reverse corruption!
> 
> this chapter contains: humiliation/degradation, rope bondage, choking, and some minor cock and ball torture

“Do you ever tire of looking at yourself?”

Hwaseong doesn’t even bother turning to answer the question; he simply looks at Seonghwa through the mirror he’s currently in front of as he adjusts the collar of his shirt.

“I believe you already know the answer of that question.”

Seonghwa sighs and sits down on one of the armchairs. A deep, royal purple, adorned with gold plating and tassels. Courtesy of Hwaseong’s taste, of course, but Seonghwa is fairly certain that all of the rooms are catered more towards the Sins’ preferences, as the Virtues have no desire to make the rooms resemble themselves in any way. Especially Seonghwa, who couldn’t care less.

It isn’t about him.

He shakes his head. “Vanity and pride are two different things, you know.”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that.” Hwaseong grins, finally closing the curtains and turning to his counterpart. “Vanity is the pride of one’s outer appearance. So yes, they may be different, but vanity is still pride.”

“And it is just as harmful. One can be happy with themselves without lavishly admiring themselves,” Seonghwa admonishes, his frustration only just peeking through.

Hwaseong pouts as if to think. “Well, at least you don’t hate yourself.”

“Of course not. It is important to love oneself, but just as it is with any Sin or Virtue, when done in excess, it is harmful.”

Hwaseong scoffs and meanders to the bed, donned in lilac sheets and, similarly to the armchair, lined with gold frames. He lounges against the pillows at the head, crossing his legs over each other. “It is important to live a life of _balance_ , Hwaseong. That is why Virtues exist. We are balanced, but not perfect,” Seonghwa says.

“Good you acknowledge Mingi,” Hwaseong quips, smirking.

Seonghwa sighs. “Ah… yes. He is quite, erm, mercurial. Out of all of us, he is certainly the most temperamental.”

“He works too hard. Ain’t that, like, not virtuous? He’s excessive, is he not?”

“In my humble opinion, it is not that he works too hard. It is that he grows agitated when he sees others not working to his standards.” Seonghwa glances away. “Of course, we all maintain a healthy working schedule, and he is pleased with it. It is specifically this time of year that he grows extra agitated due to the anticipation of seeing Minki.”

“He really hates Minki’s guts, and I honestly don’t fuckin’ blame him,” Hwaseong says. “Minki’s a lazy asshole. Doesn’t do shit back home. I swear, the amount of times Yun and Hojong have almost knocked an eye out of him are growing too much to count.” He snickers, a devilish grin forming. “We Sins ain’t perfect either, I’ll admit. But I’m about as perfect as we’ll get.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes. “Do you dare imply you are more… ‘perfect’ than your leader?” The word comes out hesitantly, almost painfully.

Hwaseong observes his fingernails and lets out a dismissive noise of acknowledgement. “Our leader’s got pride in him, that’s for sure, but _I_ am the truest embodiment of it.” He spreads his fingers and wiggles them, admiring the immaculately polished nails.

Humility stands up and walks to the end of the bed, crossing his arms judgingly. “The amount of respect you have for yourself and the lack you have of it for others is abhorrent.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Hwaseong sighs dreamily and drops his hand. He eyes Seonghwa with a smirk. “Though you’re the only one I have real respect for, you know. Well, apart from the boss. We _are_ one and the same, after all.”

Seonghwa scoffs. “I do not need your approval.”

“Well, you have it. We have the same body, same face, same build. I might not agree with you on your whole humble modesty bullshit, but I admire an attractive man when I see one.” Conspicuously, Hwaseong eyes rake up and down his counterpart.

Ignoring his fiendish counterpart, Seonghwa journeys to the side of the bed and stands right over Hwaseong, arms remaining crossed as he stares. With eyes big and intense, the same as Hwaseong’s, scrutinizing, judging.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for?” Hwaseong asks, recoiling slightly.

“You pride yourself so much. What happens when someone has a low opinion of you?” Seonghwa asks.

Hwaseong’s eyes narrow. “Nobody has a low opinion of me. Even if they do, what the fuck would I care? I ain’t got the time or any reason to care.”

“Even if it were to be the _only one_ you have real respect for?”

“You got a low opinion of me is what you’re sayin’?”

Seonghwa lifts his head, his gaze fierce and scornful. Even over Pride, he stands taller, somehow seemingly even more sure of himself in this moment.

Something Seonghwa is confident in: his disdain for his selfish, heinous counterpart.

He is a believer in the importance of loving oneself, but to the point of delusion? Absurd, in Seonghwa’s eyes. As flattered as he may be from earning the approval of the one he detests, it is not something he will take and cherish; he simply acknowledges it, enjoys it, and moves on.

Give Hwaseong praise, and it will fuel his infinite black hole of self-worship.

Give him the opposite of that…

“You know… I am quite flattered that you have respect for me. Coming from you, it is quite the compliment. How much pride did it take away from you, to admit something like that?”

Hwaseong shrugs. “Your leader is a respectable man,” Seonghwa continues. “You are one of his beloved disciples, as despicable as you are. He will not have a low opinion of you. I, on the other hand—”

Seonghwa reaches forward and down, grabbing Hwaseong’s jaw and forcing it in his direction.

“— _detest_ you.”

“You think I give a shit about what you think?” Hwaseong challenges, sneering. “Thought you were all high and mighty, Seonghwa. Aren’t you a good boy? All about ‘self-love’ and loving others? What, am I the only one you can’t stand?”

“Correct,” Seonghwa answers easily, the bluntness taking Hwaseong by surprise. “Just as I am the only one besides your leader that you have respect for, you are the only one I truly, truly detest. But you will never be able to understand why, because you are too preoccupied admiring yourself, you repulsive creature.”

“R-repulsive? Creature? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hwaseong spits, though he remains stagnant in Seonghwa’s hold. “I ain’t never been called _repulsive_ before! How fucking dare you—”

“You see? You just told me you do not care about others’ low opinions of you, but that is far from the truth, is it not?” Seonghwa grips Hwaseong’s jaw tighter and watches the lump in Hwaseong’s throat travel down. “You internalize it just as you would praise, but you turn it into rage. You turn it into spite. Which, in turn, spurs on even more narcissism and preening as a means of covering up your true insecurities.”

“What, you psychoanalyzing me now?”

Seonghwa makes a mirthful noise. “You are nothing but a masochist. Why don’t you look down?”

Hwaseong swallows again, refusing, because he already _knows_. He’s self-aware; he knows his cock is struggling against his pants, he knows Seonghwa’s words are affecting him more than anyone else’s would. But there’s something about it coming from the spitting image of himself, the person he sees in the mirror.

He is talking to himself. Putting himself down.

And he _loves it_.

With a partial scowl, Seonghwa’s hand travels from Hwaseong’s jaw to his hair, yanking it up and forcing his head up. Hwaseong hisses in pain, his cock jumping in his pants. “You keep saying we are one and the same. Therefore, it only makes sense that I know what arouses you.” Seonghwa suddenly steps up on the bed, his feet on either side of his counterpart’s torso, crouching. He keeps his hand in Hwaseong’s jet black locks as he leans in and says, “And believe me, you demon, we may share the same body, but we are _nothing_ alike.”

Seonghwa reaches behind him to cup Hwaseong’s bulge, squeezing lightly. It twitches enthusiastically at the contact, and Hwaseong winces. “So high and mighty you are now,” Seonghwa says.

“You… little…” Hwaseong swallows, his spit barely going down. Like he’s choking on air, his voice skips, and his mouth falls open as Seonghwa gives his hair another sudden tug.

And then Humility is grabbing Pride by his throat, squeezing the growing bulge in his pants, and spitting in his face. Hwaseong yelps, a sharp breath barely escaping him as Seonghwa’s spit trickles down his cheek. As he tries to inhale, salvage what’s left of his dignity, his breath hitches as Seonghwa’s hand tightens around his throat.

“Admit that you enjoy being on the receiving end of pain,” Seonghwa says lowly. His grip on Hwaseong’s cock is so tight, constricting, keeping the blood swirling in his brain, desperate to travel down.

Hwaseong presses his lips together and glowers. Scoffing, Seonghwa releases his hair with a shove and glances to his left and right.

Reluctantly, he lets go of Hwaseong’s cock to untie the ropes that bunch up the curtains surrounding the bed. As soon as the gold rope is untied, the curtains fall, leaving them behind a thin veil of lilac. Now armed with four strands of rope, Seonghwa kneels over Hwaseong again as he slides one of them through his hands, feeling its velvety texture.

“You have an immaculate choice in ropes, Hwaseong.” Seonghwa pulls the rope taut, snapping it for emphasis. “Perhaps it is because you enjoy using them for your masochistic endeavors. Tell me, who helps you? Who ties you up back home?”

“D-don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

“You like to lose control, don’t you?” Seonghwa seizes one of Hwaseong’s wrists, then the other, his suspicions confirmed when the embodiment of Pride itself doesn’t even try to resist. He brings them together, and Hwaseong _lets him_ despite the obvious strain of his face. The crumbling of his façade. It’s so close, Seonghwa can taste it. “You like being bound and thrown around. You like being called names. You like being degraded and treated like you are _nothing_ because that is what you are. You, Hwaseong, embodiment of Pride, are _nothing_.”

Seonghwa can feel Hwaseong trembling between his thighs as he wraps one of the pieces of rope around his wrists, circling and layering the material before tying it off, leaving them bound together. He glances up; there’s an oddly, conveniently placed hole in the bed frame right above Hwaseong’s head, one that’s just big enough for a rope to slip through.

“You designed this room to cater to your interests, hm?” Seonghwa grabs another strand of rope and intertwines it with the rope tied around Hwaseong’s wrists, tying it tight and knotting it into the hole in the bedframe, leaving Hwaseong’s wrists tied right above his head. “So convenient for you. So _selfish_.”

Hwaseong glares at Seonghwa wordlessly as the Virtue descends his body. “Look at yourself now, Hwaseong. Can you see it?” Seonghwa comes to a halt at his knees, grabbing his aching cock again and squeezing. “Look at how aroused you are from being called nothing.” _Twitch._ “It must be tiring, idolizing yourself all the time. It is as I said; you like to lose control.” _Twitch._ “You like it when someone other than yourself controls you, but you have too much pride to admit it.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Hwaseong snarls, his hips struggling underneath Seonghwa’s weight.

“Admit that you enjoy it,” Seonghwa says calmly, fingers pinching the zipper. “Admit that you derive pleasure from being _humiliated_.”

And oh, how ironic it is hearing the word fall from Humility’s mouth.

Painfully slow, Seonghwa undoes Hwaseong’s fly, pulling down his lower garments just past his thighs. His cock springs up, slapping against his stomach, red and swollen at the tip. “You see? _Pathetic_ , Hwaseong. You are _pathetic_.”

For once, Pride finds himself at a loss for words.

“You are so hopelessly aroused just from me belittling you. I bet my words alone could make you climax.” Seonghwa watches Hwaseong’s cock twitch again, a drop of precum forming at the tip. He swipes his index finger across it, stretching the transparent fluid between his finger and thumb. “My, my, Hwaseong. Truly disgusting, but perhaps it is to be expected of a no-good _whore_.”

A helpless moan slips out of Hwaseong’s mouth. “P-please, Seonghwa—”

“Please what?”

“Touch me _more_ ,” Hwaseong pleads, hips canting up futilely.

Seonghwa scoffs, amused. “I will not give you the pleasure you desire unless you admit it. That you enjoy being rendered so useless.”

Hwaseong watches him, gauging any sort of sadistic cadence, any hints of enjoyment in his face, but there is _nothing_. Stone-faced, Seonghwa sits there, awaiting his answer, his hand barely grazing his cock.

“Swallow your pride, Hwaseong, and you will get what you desire.”

“I’d rather choke,” Hwaseong says, only to realize his mistake as soon as the words are out.

“That can be arranged.”

Picking up one of the last two pieces of rope, Seonghwa pumps Hwaseong’s cock lazily, until enough blood has flown down, rendering it hard and red. He squeezes the base until the very moment—the moment he wraps one of the ropes around it _and_ his balls, pulling it tight and tying it.

“H-hey!” Hwaseong shouts in protest, writhing in his binds. “That fucking hurts!”

“But you enjoy it.” Seonghwa grabs the last piece of rope and crawls back up Hwaseong’s body, straddling his chest. “And I will give you until you can breathe your last breath to admit that you do.”

Without another word, Seonghwa hooks the rope behind Hwaseong’s neck, crossing it over the front, and he _pulls._ A choked, broken sound escapes his mouth before it’s cut off by the rope, tighter and tighter around his neck. All the while, Seonghwa watches him with a completely neutral expression, yet brimming with something fierce and intense.

Hwaseong knows Seonghwa is not one to hate.

No, Seonghwa is a Virtue. They share the same body, albeit not the same mind, but it is just as Seonghwa said.

“I-I…”

It _is_ tiring.

“I-I love… looking in… the mirror…”

Idolizing himself all the time.

“I-I l-love talking… about… myself…”

It is the truth. Hwaseong _does_ love looking at himself. He loves bragging. He loves it whenever he seizes the opportunity to talk about himself and his accomplishments.

He loves talking about himself.

He loves talking about _everything_ about himself.

“I love… being… useless…”

His vision blurs at the edges as Seonghwa pulls.

“I love… b-being… a whore…”

He smiles, tears pricking the edges of his eyes as he gazes at himself in all of his beauty.

Seonghwa is _beautiful_.

“W-want you to… make me cum… Seonghwa…”

And Seonghwa only pulls tighter.

Hwaseong’s tongue lolls out as more air is ejected from his lungs. His cock swells in its bind, pulsing, hot, and _pained_. “I love it…”

It is then that Seonghwa releases the rope all at once, and Hwaseong gasps, wheezes for breath, his entire body tingling and trembling as air enters him once again like a tidal wave. His back arches, cock throbbing uselessly in the confines of the rope, tinged purple, just like the room.

“I love it, I love it,” Hwaseong chants, panting. Sweat breaks out from his pores, his nerves aflame, muscles taut with painful pleasure as he squirms beneath his Virtue. “I love being tied, I love being called names, I love the pain, I love it, I love it…” He laughs, though his voice breaks as tears break through the corners of his eyes. “I love it, Seonghwa! _Please_ , give me _more_!”

Seonghwa scoffs and moves down again, straddling his knees right above his cock. It continues to twitch helplessly, big and swollen with every ounce of pain and pleasure in his body. “You are so _pathetic_ , Hwaseong. Look at yourself.” His slender fingers brush the underside of Hwaseong’s cock, and the Sin _groans_ , a high-pitched plea combined with a buck of his hips. “Are you truly this aroused from being deprived of your precious pride?”

“ _Yes_ , Seonghwa! I love it, I love it when I can lose control! Please please please _please_ , Seonghwa, let me cum, _please_ —”

“You are disgusting,” Seonghwa continues, earning another violent twitch of Hwaseong’s cock. “And idiotic too, if you think I would let you cum this soon.”

“N-no, p-please, Seonghwa, need… need it… hurts…” His head is swimming even though the air has returned to his lungs. His vision is starting to fade again, shapes and waves swirling in the corners, sweat dripping from every pore. His cock jumps and jumps, suffering within the crushing confine of the rope.

“It hurts, I imagine,” Seonghwa says, “to look at yourself every day and see nothing but a pathetic, lying little whore hidden beneath such a twisted, delusional demeanor. What you are feeling now is only a fraction of the pain you put yourself through.”

“It feels so _good_ , Seonghwa!” Hwaseong cries. Strands of sweat-ridden hair has begun to stick to his forehead as he continues to thrash, his cock wiggling with each of his motions, devoid of any sort of relief. “I love the pain! I love the pain of loving myself! It hurts so fucking _good_!”

The moment Seonghwa unties the knot, just the tiniest smidge, Hwaseong lets out an elongated, almost animalistic moan as the warmth pools in his pelvis, in his thighs, as it surges and spreads throughout the rest of his body. Seonghwa grabs his cock, hot, heavy, and sore, twisting his wrist as he strokes it through its agonizing climax. Hwaseong’s mouth drops open in a string of broken moans and pleas, back arching off the bed as thick ropes of cum spurt onto his abdomen, reaching as far back as the bedframe behind his head.

“Ha… hah…” Hwaseong’s heart pounds in his chest, heaving as he comes down, flopping back down on the bed. “You… little…”

“Now, was that so hard?” Seonghwa asks condescendingly.

“Leave… it… up to… _you_ … to fucking break me.”

Seonghwa chuckles and lets go of his cock, his hand covered in his sperm. “It is both a pain and a pleasure to sin,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Just… dandy…”

“Here.” Seonghwa stands up to retrieve a handkerchief hidden in one of the nightstand drawers and wipes it down Hwaseong’s abdomen. “Really, though, are you alright?”

“Ha, yeah.” Hwaseong laughs, swatting the loose sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. “Believe me, Seonghwa, you’re not gonna crush my ego that easily. It’s impossible.”

“Oh, I am aware. You are the manifestation of Pride itself, after all.” Seonghwa chuckles and shakes his head.

“And I know you didn’t mean any of the shit you said. You’re too nice for that.”

“Loving others and loving oneself is important. I do not feel any ill will towards anybody, even you.” Seonghwa ducks his head. “I did mean one thing, however. I know what pleasures you.”

“Because we’re one and the same.”

“Correct.”

“Then why don’t I know what pleasures you?”

Seonghwa sighs, smiling. “You are too self-centered to care about what pleasures me.”

“Oh. I guess you’re right.”

Rolling his eyes, Seonghwa plops down on the bed beside his counterpart.

“So… what _does_ pleasure you?” Hwaseong asks.

Seonghwa smirks and shakes his head.

“Save that for next year, sinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


	3. get to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You heard what I said,” Mingi says.
> 
> He leans forward, putting his foot back up on the mattress, right between Minki’s legs. When Minki squirms in an attempt to get it to touch him, Mingi simply moves it away.
> 
> “You want something? You have to work for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some aphrodisiacs, cockstepping, begging, riding, throatfucking, light degradation, use of the word slut, etc. :D

It had taken Minki ten minutes to finally get up from the dining table.

Mingi stands off to one end of the room, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. Minki is continuing to lounge about, of course, his entire body sprawled out on a bed that’s much too big for one person. Not only that, but the mattress appears so plush that the dip in the bed from Minki’s weight is uncannily visible. Minki’s eyes are closed, and Mingi can’t tell if he’s sleeping or not.

“Minki.” The name feels so weird coming out of Mingi’s mouth. Practically the same name, exactly the same appearance. yet complete opposites. “Wake up. Now isn’t the time to be lounging around.”

Minki’s eyes open as he lets out an annoyed groan. “What are we supposed to be doing, then? Talking? Look, I get that the bosses want us to interact and shit but it’s so fucking pointless. I didn’t even wanna come here.”

“Of course, since you don’t want to do anything,” Mingi says spitefully. Minki, on the other hand, just smirks and nods to concur. “Absolutely despicable.”

“Oh yeah, do feel free to reprimand me for doing nothing. And then, I will continue to do a whole lot of nothing. See? Pointless.” Minki snickers, raising his hands up under his head.

Jaw clenched, Mingi walks over to the end of the bed and raises one foot up onto the mattress, just between Minki’s spread legs. “Get up.”

“No.”

“If you won’t listen to me, at least listen to your leader. You’re a disgrace to him if you keep up this indolent attitude.”

“Uh, I think I’m doing just fine, considering this is literally what I’m meant to do.” Minki yawns. “Come on, Mingi, you work too hard.”

“And you don’t work at all,” Mingi retorts, sliding his foot further up. “You are disrespecting your leader. I don’t give a shit if you disrespect me, considering that’s just you and your selfish attitude, but at least have some respect for your leader and his orders.”

Minki rolls his eyes, and that’s all it takes for Mingi to finally press his foot forward, straight into Minki’s crotch. “H-hey—!“

“Let me ask you, Minki. Do you want things?”

“Like what?” Minki asks, voice tense as Mingi digs the tip of his foot further into his crotch. He winces, letting out a sharp yelp of discomfort. “Dude, cut that shit out!”

“Answer me.”

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, I want things, what about it?”

“You have to work for the things you want, Minki,” Mingi says, sliding his foot off of him, smirking as he sees a tent left behind. Minki is panting, like he’s just done exercise even though he’s just been laying there.

Minki scowls at his counterpart, finally propping himself up on his elbows. “What the fuck is your point?” he snarls, meeting Mingi’s furious eyes.

Both of their eyes flit down to the very obvious bulge in Minki’s pants.

“You heard what I said,” Mingi says.

He leans forward, putting his foot back up on the mattress, right between Minki’s legs. When Minki squirms in an attempt to get it to touch him, Mingi simply moves it away.

“You want something? You have to work for it.”

Minki scowls, though his hardening cock is making it difficult to keep up the front. His heart is racing in his chest, body uncomfortably hot, abnormally so. The scowl contorts into a grimace instead. “What the hell?” he mumbles.

“What?” Mingi questions with an all-knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean? I just stepped on your cock. That’s all I did.”

Minki sits up, his endless past of immobility catching up to him as his spine pops. From the feverish heat to the aches in his joints, the strange “pain” building in him urges him to _move_ , to get up, get rid of the fucking bulge in his pants and get the hell away from Mingi because he can’t fucking stand him and his nagging. He’s panting, not having moved three inches before he simply flops back down, lazily grinding down on the mattress.

“What the fuck is this?” It comes out a throaty groan of both pleasure and frustration.

“Feeling it now?” Mingi asks in that same smug tone. “Hurts, doesn’t it? That’s what happens when all you do is lounge around. When your body becomes _desperate_ to move and you’re not used to it.” He’s still smirking, arms crossed as he leans against the bedpost.

“What the fuck did you do?” Minki roars, a sudden surge of pleasure branching out from his cock to the rest of his body. He rolls onto his back, hips flailing up in the air. “Fuck, _fuck_ —”

“San said his spit holds a very strong aphrodisiac,” Mingi says, crawling onto the bed. He kicks off his shoes behind him and lies back against the pillows, Minki’s heat still endowed into them. “Call it a TMI, but he complained a lot about you at the table. You were asleep, so you didn’t hear, nor did you notice when San spit in your food.”

“He did _what_?”

Mingi chuckles. “He spit. In your food. And you have nothing to blame but your own laziness for that.” He lets out a satisfied sigh, his own cock piquing with interest at the sight of Minki writhing against the mattress, fingers desperately clinging onto the sheets.

“B-bastard, you’d think I’d know this by now…”

“He said that you do nothing but lie back while he rides you until you cum. That you don’t even bother to kiss him. How does it feel, knowing your own brothers detest your indolence?”

The words Minki tries to form only come out as a strangled moan. “Of course you wouldn’t know the potence of San’s saliva. You don’t bother to kiss him.” Mingi laughs. “He’s really upset about that, you know.”

“L-like I care,” Minki mutters, biting down on his bottom lip and thrusting up in the air again. “Gods, _fuck_!”

“And I will repeat myself over and over again,” Mingi says. “You will not be able to obtain what you want unless you _work for it_.”

Minki lets out a pained groan, hips gyrating in the air to seek friction that won’t come. His fingers cling to the velvety sheets beneath him, bunching them up in his fists as he bites his lip and squirms. Mingi watches with sadistic satisfaction, sighing contently. Finally, he gets a break.

“F-fuck, Mingi, _please_ ,” Minki begs, rolling over onto his stomach again and crawling onto Mingi’s knees. He claws at Mingi’s torso, fingers disappearing beneath his shirt. “Please, n-need…”

“If you need it so badly, you have to do it yourself,” Mingi says casually, not moving a muscle as Minki continues to paw at his stomach. He can feel Sloth’s feverish heat burning against his body despite the numerous layers of clothing separating them. Keeping his hands under his body is a difficult feat, as he wants nothing more than to flip Minki over and spank the living daylight out of him for being an annoying brat, but the lazy, insolent Sin needs to learn a lesson.

Minki’s entire body heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. “Jeez, San’s spit really is that strong, huh?” Mingi muses, smirking.

“ _Please_ , Mingi—”

“ _No_.” Mingi leans forward ever so slightly, until his face is level with his counterpart’s. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? If you want something, you have to _work for it_.” He chuckles, eyes briefly glancing at the edge of the bed. “There’s lube under the bed, if you want it.”

Minki’s face almost seems to light up at that as he scrambles on his own four limbs to retrieve the glass container. Unlike the lube in the human realm, this one provides instant readiness, without much need for physical stretching. Minki’s hands tremble as he strips himself of his clothes, his entire body flushed a pink tint. He unscrews the bottle and collects a substantial amount of the viscous fluid on his first two fingers, glancing up at his counterpart.

_Rage._

Minki is furious underneath all the arousal. Mingi wonders if Hojong can feel it.

“Please,” Minki says again, reaching between his cheeks. Mingi watches the two fingers disappear inside him. “Please please please _please_.”

“Please _what_?” Mingi asks, growing frustrated himself. His cock is tenting against his underwear, a tight restriction that’s making his head spin. Having Minki vigorously fingering himself in front of him isn’t exactly helping, either.

Minki lets out what sounds like a whine before turning around and leaning forward, his ass spreading as he does. Like this, Mingi can see it all—Minki’s fingers prodding at his stretched hole, a third one teasing the rim as he expertly maneuvers his fingers in and out of himself. “Watch,” Minki says. “Watch me. Please.”

“An exhibitionist, huh?” Mingi says with a chuckle. He has to admit though, Minki _does_ have a nice ass. Round and voluptuous, the splitting image of his own. And because they have the same ass, Mingi knows how it would feel between his hands, and having it spread in front of him is tempting him tremendously.

Minki rocks backward, his leaking cock chafing against the fabric of Mingi’s pants. Lube drips onto Mingi’s shirt, soaking through it. “Wanna… want you to fuck me.”

“Can’t do that,” Mingi says. “What part of ‘you have to work for it’ don’t you understand?”

The embodiment of Sloth lets out an petulant whine, his slender fingers finally encasing the bulge in Mingi’s pants. Mingi has to bite back a moan.

“Wanna… wanna ride you.” Minki’s words are slurred now, the aphrodisiac of San’s saliva having completely usurped his abilities. He moves languidly, his diligence practically nonexistent, but it’s certainly an improvement from before.

“Then do it,” Mingi challenges. The most he does is lift his hips to help Minki get his pants off of him, but as soon as that’s through, he lies back against the pillows once more and watches as Minki engulfs the entirety of his cock in one full sweep. Mingi has to suppress a moan again, the heat of Minki’s mouth hot and slippery around his cock.

“Please,” Minki mumbles, lips still pressed against Mingi’s length. “Please, wanna…”

“Thought you said you wanted to ride it,” Mingi says.

Minki whimpers, turning himself around so he faces Mingi. His cock is standing straight against his stomach, a thin sheen of either precum or lube coating it. It’s tinged red, almost painfully so. Minki swallows hard as he rocks back, his slick hole rubbing against Mingi’s cock.

“Watch,” Minki says. A timid request, if anything. He grabs Mingi’s cock from behind him, running the head against his entrance before sinking down on it. His eyes flutter and roll back before they shut altogether, cock twitching as soon as Mingi has bottomed out, the head providing constant pressure against his sweet spot. “O-oh, _Mingi_.”

There’s something tantalizing about hearing his own name coming from his own mouth in such a lewd fashion. Again, Mingi has to hold back a moan, because there’s no way Minki is getting any satisfaction out of him. Not a lick of praise, _nothing_ , until he _works_ for it, proves that he can get off by himself, just from riding his counterpart’s cock.

Minki’s movements are still lackadaisical—whether it’s due to a millennia of inactivity or the lustful yet exhausting haze of the aphrodisiac, Mingi isn’t quite sure. But he’d be lying if he said Minki didn’t feel good, his tight, wet heat squeezing his cock in all the right ways. Even though Minki is moving at a pace meant for a Sloth like him, it’s still managing to stir pleasure in Mingi, enough to make his stomach taut with arousal.

However, Mingi keeps his mouth shut. Not a single noise leaves his mouth. The only sounds in the room are Minki’s ass colliding with Mingi’s hips, the obscene squelching that comes with it, and the soft whimpers that escape Minki’s lips every time Mingi’s cock moves inside him.

“Wanna… need to cum,” Minki cries, anchoring his hands on Mingi’s thighs as he leans back, lifting his hips and slamming them down with a newfound vigor. “Please, Mingi, _help me_.”

“Not a chance,” Mingi snarls. He raises his hands above his head just to prove that he’s _serious._ That if Minki really wants to cum, he has to do it himself.

“F-fuck you,” Minki says, one hand coming down to grip his aching cock. “You… I’ll find a way… to get back at you.”

“You’re too lazy to do that,” Mingi quips, scoffing.

Minki lets out a frustrated grunt, probably realizing that it’s the cold hard truth.

But as his orgasm nears, Mingi finds his counterpart picking up the pace, his hand furiously pumping his cock as he bounces up and down, his walls clenching around him. Minki’s back arches, his head falling back. “Mingi, Mingi, Mingi…”

“What?”

“Feels so good, _too good_ ,” Minki wails. “Too… too good…”

Mingi’s mouth falls open slightly as Minki’s insides curl around his cock, almost seeming to spasm around it, tighter and hotter as Minki’s orgasm wracks him. Thick ropes of cum land on Mingi’s (thankfully white) shirt, spurt after spurt, some even ending up splashing on his chin. Minki continues to ride him through it, sobbing as he finally releases his cock.

“Please, _please_ cum,” Minki pleas, his hips rolling in fluid motions in attempts to coax an orgasm out of Mingi.

“You haven’t earned it,” Mingi says.

“ _Please_!” Minki sounds _desperate_ , a high-pitched tone Mingi has never heard himself or his counterpart make. “Please, I’ve been good, I rode your cock until I came, I even fingered myself open for you, I…” Hot tears cascade down Minki’s cheeks. “Want your cum… need…”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do. You do it,” Mingi says. A final declaration. He hopes he won’t have to repeat himself again.

With a dejected whine, Minki pulls himself off of Mingi’s cock, opting for going down on him instead, his thick, plump lips wrapping around his length and sucking _hard_ , cheeks hollowed and throat open. A curse almost falls from Mingi’s mouth at the suddenness of it.

And then, Minki is bobbing his head at a pace Mingi didn’t know was even possible for him. With his hands planted by Mingi’s sides, Minki uses just his head and mouth and tongue, taking Mingi’s cock in all the way and out just the same. His eyes glare straight into his counterpart’s, fiery and determined as the lewd noises flood his eardrums.

“Cum,” Minki says once he pulls off, sliding his parted lips along the glistening length. “Cum, want you to cum all in my mouth, make me swallow it, make me _gag on it_.”

“Filthy,” Mingi growls, fingers itching to thread in Minki’s hair and pull on it. He resists.

“I know,” Minki whines. “I’m filthy. I’m a desperate slut and I want your cum. _Need_ it, need you to fill my mouth with it…”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I know.” Minki flattens his tongue against it, licking a fat stripe up the length before sucking it back in.

“You want my cum that badly?”

Minki pulls off with an obscenely loud pop. “ _Yes_ , want you to cum down my throat. Please, I’ve been good… I’m sorry for being so lazy. But please, _please_ , want you to fill my mouth, use my mouth any way you want, I don’t care, just—”

Mingi scoffs and finally caves, lacing both of his hands’ fingers through Minki’s hair and pushing his cock back into his mouth until he can feel the head of it collide with the flesh of Minki’s throat. Minki lets out a surprised gag, his throat slowly loosening and relaxing once he’s realized what’s happening—he’s _finally_ getting what he wants.

“Listen to me, you lazy slut,” Mingi grunts as he thrusts into Minki’s throat. “When you’re around me, I better see you awake and aware. You better be ready to listen to me, get on your knees for me and do what I tell you to do, you understand? _I’m_ the one in charge. You want me? You work for me.”

Minki can only get out a garbled moan as a response, but the vibration and mere obscenity of it is enough to get Mingi to the edge. He holds Minki’s head against his pelvis as his cum shoots down his throat, watching as Minki’s eyes roll up to meet his, glassy with tears. Still full of rage, yet _grateful_ , finally giving him what he wants and relieving him of the neglect.

“Taking it well,” Mingi groans, grinning as he watches the fluid seep out from Minki’s enclosed lips. “Let me hear you.”

He yanks Minki’s hair up, his counterpart letting out a loud, throaty gasp as he’s released, an abundance of spit and cum gushing from his mouth once the sweet, sweet air fills it again. He swallows whatever’s left, wincing.

Mingi stands up, towering over Minki’s kneeling body on the bed, and threads his fingers in his hair once again, pulling his head up to look up at the pillar of Diligence looming above him.

“Have I made myself clear now?” Mingi sneers.

Minki nods, gulping, his eyes falling back onto Mingi’s half-hard cock.

“Well? Has San’s spit worn off yet?” Minki shakes his head.

Mingi chuckles darkly, grabbing the base of his dick and running the head along Minki’s swollen lips.

“Well then, get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


	4. green with envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In order to let go of one’s selfish desires, one must learn to be kind to themself, without overdoing it, of course. This goes for you and Youngwoo.”
> 
> Yeo nods again. Yeosang’s hand crawls up his shirt.
> 
> “Be kind to yourself, Yeo. Look at all you have. Allow yourself to love what you have, even if it’s just sometimes. And maybe, you will finally acquire what you seek so desperately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a relatively tame chapter compared to the other two!! we have praise, rimming, and mirror sex ;)

The time Yeo spends with Yeosang is the time he cherishes the most, though he would never admit it.

On one end of the room is a deep emerald curtain with gold tassels at the ends, and beneath that curtain is a one-way mirror that peeks into the room of Pride and Humility.

Yeosang knows how tempting it is for Yeo to open that curtain. He’s never been to their circle of Hell, but he safely assumes that it isn’t just one wall that has such a unique feature in Yeo’s actual living space. The curtain in this room remains closed for both of their sakes.

But Yeo is dead silent, eyes narrowed and hyperfocused on the green curtain, and it’s as if Yeosang can see the neon green flames fuming in those envious eyes of his.

“Yeo.” Yeosang treads the waters carefully, well aware that one misstep could lead to an outburst. “Please. Look at me.”

Yeo complies easily. Although they look the same, Yeosang knows how it is for him; Yeo will always look up, not down, to those whose belongings he wished he had.

Whether it be a physical characteristic, a material possession, or a personality trait, Yeo watches with rapt attention and wishes.

“What do you want?” Yeo asks with underlying defiance.

Yeosang reaches his hand out for his counterpart to take. “Come.”

Again, Yeo obeys, and allows Yeosang to guide him to the opposite side of the room, home to another curtain that’s colored a rich, royal purple. Yeosang notices the way Yeo flinches before he opens one end to reveal a true mirror that spans the entire wall, reflecting nothing but the room and the two beings that stand before it.

“Look at you,” Yeosang says, stepping behind Yeo. He rests a gentle hand on one of his shoulders. “Why do you need more? You have so much, Yeo.”

“It’s what I am,” Yeo answers. “It’s who I am. It’s in my nature to want. To yearn for things I don’t have.”

“You simply don’t see.” Yeosang steps off to one side. “Look at me, at my reflection. Is there something of mine that you want?”

“Yes.”

“And what would that be?”

“I want to be as kind as you. But, of course, that’s impossible.”

Yeosang chuckles endearingly, putting both of his hands on Yeo’s shoulders as he rests his chin on one. “It is never impossible to be kind, even for you, my envious friend. If you look at us on the surface, we look the same, but we are complete opposites. We are the same, but we are not.”

Yeo’s eyes lift to their reflections and the knot in his throat bobs as Yeosang’s hands slide to his chest.

“You do realize that the purpose of these annual meetings is to set aside our differences, to see ourselves in each other’s light.” Yeosang reasons. “So that the Sins and Virtues may both relinquish control over what pains them. You may not realize, but you Sins are not all inherently evil, just as we Virtues are not all inherently good.”

Yeo nods meekly, eyes locked on Yeosang’s reflection and the delicate hands that only continue to descend downward.

“In order to let go of one’s selfish desires, one must learn to be kind to themself, without overdoing it, of course. This goes for you and Youngwoo.”

Yeo nods again. Yeosang’s hand crawls up his shirt.

“Be kind to yourself, Yeo. Look at all you have. Allow yourself to love what you have, even if it’s just sometimes. And maybe, you will finally acquire what you seek so desperately.”

Yeosang’s hot breath tickles Yeo’s skin, sending shivers down his spine, all the way down to his toes. He peppers kisses along Envy’s neck as his fingers spread across his torso, traveling up to his chest. “Look, Yeo,” Yeosang murmurs into his skin. “Look at yourself. Look at us. What do you see?”

“I see… _ah_ …”

Yeosang takes Yeo’s nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, tweaking them gently, his lips suckling at his neck. “I s-see…”

“Go on,” Yeosang says. “Tell me.”

“Y-Yeosang.” Yeo throws his hands up to the mirror, palms flattening against the smooth glass. He whimpers, knees buckling, but Yeosang’s tender yet firm arms keep him afloat, keep him standing. And his lips, soft and supple against his neck, teeth nipping his the skin. “O-oh, my…”

“Tell me what you see,” Yeosang repeats, dragging his tongue along the curve of Yeo’s neck.

“I s-see… us.”

“Mhm…”

“A-and… y-you are kind… while I am… envious…”

“We are one and the same, Yeo,” Yeosang says. “If I am kind, what are you?”

Yeo lifts his head, prying his eyes open. “B-but you are not envious, are you not?”

“Mm, do you think that?” Yeosang chuckles. “I am not perfect. There are things that I desire, of course. But the importance of wanting is to not let it consume you.” One of his hands continues its journey downwards to grasp the bulge forming in Yeo’s pants, eliciting a strangled moan from him. “You _are_ kind, Yeo.”

“Y-Yeosang, I…” Yeo’s words get lodged in his throat as Yeosang’s deft fingers finally undo his fly, his hand disappearing beneath the layers to grab his hardening cock. “Oh, Yeosang… you are too much. T-too kind…”

“You deserve it, my friend,” Yeosang murmurs. His words sink beneath Yeo’s skin, pooling in his blood and spreading through his veins. Though their voices are the same, Yeo can hear the differing cadences, the way Yeosang holds himself and his tone so pristinely, so amiably. How he is able to converse with just about anyone, with patience that rivals Jongho’s. Yeo _is_ jealous. Deep down, he knows he will never be able to achieve the level of kindness Yeosang has.

But for tonight, he can pretend. He can look at his reflection and pretend that he loves it. That he can see the kindness in him that Yeosang speaks of, the kindness that Yeosang is so certain of.

“Tell me what you look like. What you see on the surface,” Yeosang orders.

He pulls Yeo’s cock from its confines, wrapping his fingers around it and stealing the words straight from Yeo’s mouth. How could he possibly respond in a position like this?

He forces himself to look.

“I… my eyes are a deep brown.” He gulps as Yeosang runs his thumb along the tip of his cock, coaxing a bead of precum from it. “My hair… as black as a midnight sky…”

“Mm,” Yeosang hums in acknowledgement as his hand tugs on his cock, stroking.

“A-ah!” Yeo’s body wants nothing more than to give out, but Yeosang’s hold around his torso has him locked in place. His fingers curl against the glass to no avail.

“Keep going,” Yeosang urges.

Yeo manages to swallow brokenly as Yeosang moves his hands around, this time, keeping one arm around his pelvis while the other lowers his undergarments entirely. Yeo’s knees cave in, bending inwards as he shifts all his weight to the hands on the mirror, because there is no other way he can hold himself up. He whimpers as he feels the wet heat of Yeosang’s tongue graze his cheek, legs trembling, threatening to crumble completely.

“M-my eyes… round as almonds… nose, po-pointed… my jaw— _ah_!”

With his arm still locked around Yeo’s pelvis, Yeosang’s other hand keeps one of his cheeks spread as his tongue flattens against his entrance. “Oh, oh _gods_ , Yeosang!”

Yeosang holds him steady through it all, through the titillating pleasure of having his hole pleasured in such an obscene fashion. His cock lurches every time Yeosang’s tongue flicks up, until he can _feel_ the wetness of the head. He falls into his palms’ weight, face smooshed against the mirror and cock leaking against the cool glass.

A sudden cold sensation replaces the warm slickness of Yeosang’s tongue. His fingers, Yeo realizes, coated with lube. When he did that, Yeo doesn’t know, but as soon as two of Yeosang’s fingers breach his entrance, it’s over for him.

“Please, Yeosang,” he whines, grinding down helplessly onto the glass. “Please, _more_.”

“As you wish, my envious friend.” Yeosang rises to his feet, his two fingers still buried inside Yeo as he presses kisses all up his spine. There’s the clinking and unzipping of Yeosang’s pants, the shuffling of clothes coming off. And then a hot sensation replacing the cold as Yeosang rubs his cock over the cleft of Yeo’s ass before pushing in slowly.

“H-haa… Yeosang…” Yeo manages to push himself up, his eyes opening to see Yeosang’s head cocked to the side, watching his reflection. The same pair of eyes, yet with different levels of debauchedness, as Yeo’s brows furrow in pleasure and Yeosang’s remain stagnant, focused. As if to gauge any pain or discomfort, Yeosang stills himself inside and pauses, watches. “You can move… _please_.”

Yeosang doesn’t say a word as he pulls out and pushes back in, his thrusts starting off agonizingly slow, but Yeo supposes this is just the beginning, just a taste of what Yeosang has to give him. What Yeosang _wants_ to give him. As his own voice rings in his head, _“You deserve it.”_

But does he really and truly deserve such pleasure? Does he really deserve to have the embodiment of Kindness touching him like this, caressing his skin so meticulously? Does he deserve the privilege of having somebody so selfless as Yeosang _ruining_ so envious as him?

“I know what you are thinking,” Yeosang says as he drags his cock along Yeo’s walls, leaning into his shoulder. His eyes have gone darker, Yeo notices. Fiercer, more intense, as they stare him down through the mirror. “Yeo… you are worth so much more than you know. Everybody deserves to be happy, to be kind to themselves. You are no exception, my friend.”

_Friend._

It is Yeosang who approaches him with open arms and refers to him as a friend. A title that Yeo has only heard from the likes of the leaders. No Sin or Virtue calls him that, though he spends much of his time shut away in his room. If the other Sins call him that behind his closed door, he wouldn’t know.

“You deserve to feel this pleasure,” Yeosang goes on.

And because they share the same body, Yeosang knows exactly where to touch him. Where to kiss him.

His neck, first and foremost. A few chaste kisses, his tongue’s skilled movements, and Yeo is leaking. Teasing his nipples, flicking his fingers against the hardening nubs, however, and Yeo is already on the brink. He can feel it in the way his muscles pull taut, how his knees threaten to take him out for the umpteenth time. His cock twitches helplessly between himself and the mirror, precum dripping onto the polished floor below.

“You have so much. You have all of my qualities and more. You are intelligent, you are brave, and you are _kind_. The only flaw… is that you are not kind to yourself.”

“Oh, _Yeosang_!”

Yeosang’s breaths hasten, hot against Yeo’s shoulder as his movements quicken, the wet squelching of his thrusts echoing off the walls. His hands grasp his waist, using the grip to pound mercilessly into him and sending his mind and vision to the cosmos.

Yeo keens, using the remainder of his strength to straighten his arms, lifting the pair as far back as he can to watch himself come undone. It takes everything left of him to keep his eyes open, to _watch_ as his climax wracks his body, cumming untouched in massive spurts onto the glass. The thick fluid trickles down the glass in globs, spreading in a puddle on the floor.

Yeosang crosses his arms around Yeo’s chest, keeping his nearly limp body up as he finishes inside, heat pulsing into him before both of their bodies finally give out. With Yeosang still inside him, he falls to his knees, heaving for breath as he comes down from his high. Yeosang continues to embrace him, peppering more kisses to the nape of his sweaty neck.

“You… are truly too kind for your own good, my friend,” Yeo says.

_My friend._

He feels a grin spread over his shoulder as another kiss is pressed into it. Something about the nickname makes Yeo feel warm inside, and it’s not the cum.

“You have a friend in me,” Yeosang whispers. “You have a friend in yourself. You are your friend for life, Yeo. Treasure yourself just as you would anybody else’s belongings or traits. You are just as lovable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


	5. feed your senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Open.” Yun makes another brave step forward, and Yunho parts his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”
> 
> With one last gulp, Yunho opens his mouth, and Yun is there to cup his chin and tilt his head back as he pushes down on the nozzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... food sex
> 
> whipped cream, banana deepthroating, sensual banana feeding, chocolate syrup blowjobs... yeah. this one's a little weird but... you've been warned

“I swear this room gets smaller each year,” Yunho laments as he steps into the room. The glutton is already in, of course, dawdling on the chaise lounge as he feeds himself a bunch of grapes from above as if he’s some sort of art piece.

“Minki’s room is a lot worse,” Yun muses with stuffed cheeks. “Since the bastard never cleans up after himself, y’know.”

“Good thing Mingi is there to balance it out,” Yunho says with a roll of his eyes.

Yun scoffs. “Don’t we always?”

Yunho glares at his counterpart, who wears his notoriously over-indulgent smirk. He chews loudly, deliberately, and waves the grapes in front of his face like a hypnotizer. “Come on, Yunho. Indulge.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Hmph.” Yun drops the grapes into a silver basin just off to the side and stands up, padding over to the silver fridge in the corner of the room. Yunho watches with a gurgling in his gut as he watches Yun pull out a can of sorts. “Come on, I’m sure you’ll like this,” he says somewhat suggestively, shaking the can.

Yunho keeps his wary eyes on the glutton as he approaches, shaking the can. “What is it?” he asks.

Yun takes the cap off of the can. It makes a ‘pop’ sound, and beneath it is a white nozzle. “It’s _good_ , that’s what it is. Just like those grapes. Just like the fresh meat and vegetables I served at the table earlier. It pained me to see you eat so little _._ Come on, Yunho. Indulge yourself.”

Suddenly, Yun tilts his head back, pointing the white nozzle directly into his mouth and pressing down on it. Something white pours out of it. When Yun closes his mouth around it, it doesn’t make a sound, and his cheeks puff up once more as he swallows whatever he just sprayed into his mouth. Some of it caught onto his bottom lip, a speck of white dotting the pink hue.

“Come on,” Yun urges, tongue poking out to collect the white on his bottom lip, swiping across it. Yunho gulps, causing Yun to smirk as he shakes the can again. “It’s so _sweet._ Kinda like you and your goody two shoes friends.”

“They are my _brothers_ ,” Yunho says, fuming. He eyes the can readily as if Yun would shove it down his throat against his will. “Just like you and your fiendish kin.”

Yun just laughs and steps forward again, closing more distance between them. “We arrange these annual meetings so we can _bond_ , you know. We may stand for opposite things, but you know damn well we can’t exist without each other. So what do you say?” He shakes the can once more and points the nozzle at Yunho, almost menacingly. “Just a little, itty bitty taste.”

Yunho swallows again as every nerve in his being surges, telling him _No, he is a Sin._ But something in his abdomen is hollow, so much so that it almost hurts. With each breath, scents from everywhere invade his five senses, not just his olfactory, because he has been devoid of such a desire for so long.

“Open.” Yun makes another brave step forward, and Yunho parts his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

With one last gulp, Yunho opens his mouth, and Yun is there to cup his chin and tilt his head back as he pushes down on the nozzle.

Whatever it is, it’s cold, creamy, and sweet, flooding Yun’s mouth with an overwhelming flavor that he’s never experienced before. He almost chokes as the stuff melts in his mouth and slithers down his throat, taste buds tingling, unconsciously smacking his mouth as soon as the sugary substance pushes past his esophagus. “Well?” Yun questions with a smirk. “What do you think?”

“It’s…” Yunho pauses, gulping. He stares at the can, bright red and enticing. A bit of the white stuff has collected at the nozzle, which Yun promptly licks up. “I… I cannot have any more.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll guzzle down the whole can?” Yun chuckles and sprays more of it into his mouth. The can hisses, tempting, like that damned snake. “I have more, don’t worry.”

“I cannot,” Yunho asserts, though his voice trembles, the back of his mouth already itching for more of that indescribable flavor.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Yun rolls his eyes, frustration present in them. He recaps the can, and Yunho watches in mourning as the glutton puts it back in the fridge. There are plenty of other unidentifiable bottles and cans and packages inside, all of which probably contain something that Yunho has never tried before. He keeps his eyes trained on the fridge curiously, almost yearningly, and once Yun shuts it, Yunho nearly whimpers. Yun turns back to him with a gritty sigh. “You’re such a fucking prude.”

“E-excuse me?” Yunho’s eyes widen at the sudden crass language.

“Yeah. You and all of your _brothers._ Fucking prudes, all of you. Can’t you guys learn to loosen up a little bit? _Indulge_ once in a while? You know your own _leader_ sucks my leader’s cock, right?”

“Yun!” Yunho exclaims, his heart doing a kickflip in his chest. Heat flares in his cheeks at the crude words, a thought that Yunho would never imagine now taking form in his mind. He shuts his eyes, as if it would will the image away.

Yun scoffs, smirking as he circles around to the back of Yunho. “Yeah, you didn’t know that? The embodiment of all Virtues, sucking cock. Can you imagine that? Imagine that for me, Yunho. Imagine your very own leader, the one you look up to the most, choking on a fat fucking cock.”

“Yun, that’s _enough_!”

“Indulge a little,” Yun says, completely ignoring Yunho’s plea. “If your leader can indulge, I don’t see why the rest of you can’t.”

When Yunho’s eyes finally pry open, Yun has come full circle, standing in front of him again, a banana in hand. “Yun… what…”

“You ever suck cock before, Yunho?” Yun asks, the tips of his fingers toying with the banana’s stem, pinching it, tugging it down to reveal its white flesh. “When your mouth is stuffed full… have you ever felt that before? It’s one of the greatest feelings.” The glutton sighs dreamily, lips lingering above the tip.

Yunho’s breath hitches in the middle of his throat as he watches his counterpart’s salacious actions, on a _banana_ of all things, wrapping his lips around it, pushing it further into his mouth. Yun stares him down the entire time with hooded eyes that bore into his very being, an open invitation, telling him, _come and get some._

Yunho swallows a dry lump, wishing it were something else.

Finally, Yun’s lips close around the banana as he bites down on it, engulfing nearly all of it. His cheeks puff out as he chews, mouth smacking with each exaggerated bite. Yun has the nerve to _smile_ , giggling as he puts his hand up to shield his mouth.

“Din’t think I’d ever deepthroat a banana to try to sheduce shomebody,” Yun says, his words muffled by the mush stuffing his face.

Yunho is absolutely mesmerized by the amount Yun’s mouth can hold. He can still speak, still keep a steady face, and though his words may not be well-pronounced, he continues to hold himself, proud and obnoxious. No shame.

_No shame._

Yun finally swallows, leaving a small piece of banana behind, enough for one bite. Still smirking, he plucks it from the peel and tosses the yellow carcass off to the side. “Want it?” he asks.

And _god_ , Yunho does.

“I can tell how much you want it,” Yun murmurs, dangling the piece in front of Yunho’s face, filling Yunho’s nostrils with the sweet yet earthy scent. “You know that, right? I can sense every ounce of _want_ in you. You already tried some of the whipped cream… what harm is a piece of banana going to do?”

Yunho inhales deeply, his head swirling, filled with nothing but saccharine goodness and shameless temptation, eyes locked on the banana, on _Yun._

“Open up,” Yun purrs, raising his free hand to the back of Yunho’s neck.

Eyes screwed shut, Yunho opens his mouth and allows Yun to slide the banana inside. Delicate fingers cradle his chin, gently nudging his mouth shut, guiding Yunho as his mouth works the banana in his mouth. It floods its senses, breaking down into mush as he chews, slimy and sweet in his mouth.

“There you go,” Yun coos, the hand on the back of Yunho’s neck traveling to his hair. “Was that so hard?”

Yunho finally swallows, eyes springing with tears. When he opens them, Yun is watching him with a warm smile, oddly enough, filled with pride.

“You…”

Yun’s smile widens as he drops his hands from Yunho’s body. “There’s _nothing_ wrong with indulging once in a while, Yunho. I know you and your little friends wanna be the good guys and all, but you can’t be good _all_ the time. Learn to live a little, yeah? Don’t force yourself to abstain because you feel like you have to. It’s good to give in to the temptation sometimes.”

Yunho releases a deep, tired breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’s overcome with a sudden hyper-awareness of everything that adorns the room—the fridge fully stocked with mystery items, bowls of vibrantly-colored fruit, bags of junk food and bottles lining wall-mounted shelves. It’s as if Yunho has been unable to view the room and all of its contents, as if his mind deliberately shrouded the room in darkness.

And now, it’s blinding. The colors, the smells, _everything_ , he can feel them now. Bombarding his senses, he closes his eyes again and breathes it all in, delectable, tempting.

“Do you see now, Yunho?”

Yunho opens his eyes again, his vision crystal clear.

“Yes… I see.”

“Do you want to try more?”

Yunho’s stomach churns with want.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I want to try.”

“You like the whipped cream and the banana, right?” Yunho nods. “Then… you like sweets.” Yun chuckles and steps away, opening a cabinet on one of the far walls and plucking a brown bottle off the shelf. “Yeo’s a lot like that.”

“Yeosang, too,” Yunho muses.

“Well, yeah, they’re the same. But that’s cute… maybe you and Yeosang can bake cookies together someday or something.”

Yunho manages a chuckle. “Ah… perhaps.”

Yun makes one last noise of acknowledgement before uncapping the brown bottle and holding the tip above his mouth, much like he’d done with the can of whipped cream. Except this time, what comes out is a stream of _something_ , a gooey, dark brown liquid. Yun purses his lips when he’s done, licking the last drop from the tip of the bottle and swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, collecting whatever is left over.

“Ah… may I ask what that is?”

“Chocolate syrup,” Yun answers.

“It seems inconvenient to eat, just like that,” Yunho says, pointing.

Yun shrugs. There’s a brief pause before a thought visibly manifests on his face, widened eyes followed by a mischievous smirk. “I mean, I can think of other ways to eat it.”

Yunho tilts his head. “For example?”

Still smirking, Yun motions his head to the chaise lounge. “Lie down. And shirt off.”

“What—”

“Just do it.”

Yunho isn’t Sannie. He isn’t naive or clueless. There is visible scheming in Yun’s devilish eyes, but Yunho has come this far, and Yun is willing to indulge him. _Just for one day_ , Yunho repeats to himself as he tugs his shirt up over his head, discarding it on the floor before lying back against the haphazardly arranged pillows on the chaise lounge.

Yun watches his every move, eyes roving over his very own body. “Look at you,” he says. “All laid out for me… like an all-you-can-eat buffet.” He giggles to himself, swinging his legs over Yunho’s, straddling his calves.

“What are you planning?” Yunho asks, suspicious.

“Oh, I’m sure you know.”

Perhaps Yunho _does_ , but he realizes it a split second too late, as Yun tilts the bottle over his chest. Yunho gasps as the brown liquid pours out, coating his chest with an unpleasant stickiness that Yun promptly sweeps up with his tongue, leaving faint streaks of sugary syrup behind.

Before Yunho can even register the wet tingling on his chest, Yun surges forward to connect their lips, smothering Yunho’s senses in everything chocolatey and indulgent. Yunho can’t help the whimper that escapes him at the taste and the feeling of Yun’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth, filling it with the syrup he’d lapped up from his chest. Yunho’s inexperienced mouth struggles to keep up, his tongue simply following in Yun’s footsteps, lazily dragging against his counterpart’s in a one-sided dance.

And if that wasn’t enough, Yun has the audacity to cup Yunho’s embarrassingly growing bulge, giving it a light squeeze.

“W-wait,” Yunho gasps as he pulls away. “W-what are we doing?”

“Well, remember when I asked you if you’d sucked cock before?”

Yunho’s face ignites, blood rushing to his cheeks. “I’m gonna suck your cock,” Yun says matter-of-factly. “I’ll take all you give me, Yunho. You did well today, and I’m proud of you. This is your reward.”

Yun’s smirk returns to him as he tilts the bottle into his mouth again, expertly undoing Yunho’s fly with his other hand and tugging his pants down. He keeps the bottle drawn close as he lowers himself down, running his chocolate-stained tongue along the underside of Yunho’s cock before swallowing it down, much like he’d done to the banana.

“Oh, _gods_ ,” Yunho groans, head thrown back.

Yun responds with a throaty, wet moan as he coats Yunho’s cock in saliva and syrup, a sticky, messy concoction that only seems to egg him on, desperate for a taste of Yunho in his rawest form. It’s almost effortless, how well Yun takes his counterpart’s cock; it fits in his mouth perfectly, hitting the deepest parts of his throat with ease.

A low, guttural sound rips from Yun’s throat, and when Yunho manages to open his eyes, he’s greeted with the sight of his cock glistening, strands of tinted saliva stretching from his pelvis to Yun’s mouth with each bob of the head. He clasps a hand over his mouth and attempts to swallow the noises that threaten to leave him.

“Y-Yun… wait…”

His words only seem to encourage the glutton, his head moving at a pace that Yunho can’t even fathom. There’s a tightening building up in his stomach, an unfamiliar one, one that isn’t due to eating a hearty meal or indulging in too many sweets. No, this one is coiling, burning, one that brings tears to Yunho’s eyes and makes his thighs twitch every single time he feels the head of his cock collide with the back of Yun’s throat, a seemingly endless tunnel that somehow still fits Yunho’s cock like a glove.

The coiling in Yunho’s belly unwinds with no warning, white-hot and blinding as he unconsciously thrusts up into Yun’s mouth, cum spurting down his throat. A strangled, garbled sound follows as spit and cum leaks from the corners. Cheeks hollowed, he sucks in everything Yunho has to offer, collecting it in the safety of his mouth and pulling off cleanly, not wasting a single drop.

He ascends Yunho’s body, pressing his mouth against his, opening it, and letting his own cum inside. Yunho winces at the sudden clash of tastes, sweet from the syrup, bitter and salty from his very own cum, and as much as he feels like he would be absolutely repulsed, he actually doesn’t mind it.

Maybe it’s because it’s Yun has somehow managed to corrupt his senses to the point of delusion, where everything registers as _delicious_ no matter how unsightly or unpleasant it may seem.

And he imagines that it would ring true for the others in one way or another.

Yunho swallows whatever Yun puts into his mouth, sighing when Yun pulls away.

With one last swipe of the tongue, Yun smirks once again.

“You should try stuffing your mouth someday,” he says, pinching Yunho’s cheek. “Our cheeks are perfect for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls be nice to me i wrote this bc it fit the fic not because i have a desire to sensually feed a banana to someone lmao  
> also PLEASE do not put sugary food (or any food, really) near ur genitals. yeast infections are a thing. the sins and virtues are inhuman and do not get yeast infections. take this fic with a grain of salt pls  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


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